Images of A Hero
by Horky
Summary: He'd grown up with one, a hero...but he didn't realize, really, how much it was...how you had to take the good with the bad.
1. Promised

**Images of a Hero**

Promised

He was breathing hard after the trek over a fallen part of the plate. Still, he moved with a speed and precision most of the others around him didn't posses, at least, not in this chaos. He slammed his back into the overturned train cart, pushing his helmet back where he crouched on the ground. Several other boys– no, men, men now, several other men landed beside of him, one nose diving into the safety of the obstruction. Bullets hailed on the other side, whipping around slashing the air in two. After pulling up one of the guys, a wound in his leg, he turned his head quickly, seeking out his squadron leader. He was across the way, a large gap separating two groups that had formed in the squad. His squadron leader was crouched behind a large pile of rubble that looked like it was an old piece of plate. There was about a dozen men crouched along the wall of an old, abandon building behind the squad leader.

He swallowed, glancing at the seven men hiding behind his train cart, and the building to his right preventing the enemy from flanking them.

They all looked at him as if they expected him to give orders. He hated giving orders, that's why he had sought out the squad leader. He'd wait for his orders, he thought, as he turned his attention back towards the gap.

His squad leader was cautiously peering out every now and then, and he figured he should probably do the same, to assess the enemy, and their chances of survival.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath, before turning out quickly to try and catch a glimpse of anything. He brought his gun up in the same instance, flipping off the safety and holding it level as an enemy target moved from a pile of rubble. With controlled shots he was able to take the man down, and he swallowed, not having any time to think he just killed someone.

He was long past that.

More men began to appear, in the familiar, crimson colors, and he targeted them all, shooting them from their feet. He could hear guns being fired closer, and realized that his own half had taken to firing if they could see anything to shoot at. It gave him strength to know he was being supported, and shot with a new vengeance.

As he went to turn his fire at another exposed enemy, he squeezed the trigger, and the gun hissed and clicked in protest.

_Fuck,_ a choice word he had picked up from one of his old friends.

He turned quickly back into the safety of the train cart, slapping the side of his gun, pointing it skyward in case it should go off.

That was when the loud pow was heard, and a hiss of wind. He blinked rapidly, locating the small bullet hole on the ground where he'd been a second before.

He swallowed.

"_Sniper!_"

His men were down instantly, half of them not hearing, but seeing the damage of the sniper as a comrade fell backwards from his position. Blood seeped from the wound, and he looked away, back towards the gap at the other half.

"Sniper!" he shouted again, but they hadn't heard.

It didn't matter, though.

That was when he heard the familiar high-pitched whistle above him. It clicked inside of him, and he didn't give out a warning. They all knew what this was. He flung himself to the ground, covering his head, his half doing the same. He didn't even take time to spare a glance at the other half across the way.

It shook the ground with such a force he didn't hear it, because already his hearing was gone, the familiar ringing in his right ear, the exaggerated breath of himself the only constant, and somewhere in the mix a dull thud of heartbeat.

If he heard that, it meant he was still alive.

Plumes of dirt and metal shot towards the sky, ricocheted off obstructions, and deadly, scrap metal found its way into the bodies of his squad.

He pressed his hands to his ears, his vision dancing before him. Clouds of smoke and dust, men lying on the ground screaming with no words. He was heading towards the building. Cover. That's where he needed to go.

He glanced over his shoulder once, to find his squad leader the first one actually on his feet. He was, after all, the Veteran of the group, surviving the most battles.

But not this one.

He watched as the bullets shredded through him as the squad leader tried to rally his squad. He watched as the man died silently, falling on to his back, a bullet piercing his shoulder–

_Edward...age 28...native of Mideel...carpenter_

He crawled towards the safety of the building, sound still evading his ears.

_Edward...age 28...native of Mideel...carpenter_

He wouldn't make it, he realized, as sound ebbed into his ears slightly. He glanced over his shoulder, picking out the crimson uniforms as they slaughtered his men.

Once chance.

_Edward..._

_Michael...age 22...Midgar...weapon-smith._

He'd passed his overturned cart now, and reached one that was actually right side up. He'd never make it to the building, and even if he did, that would be the first place they'd look.

He might die here.

Promises, promises, promises...

_Hey, if you do this–_

_Anne...age 19...Rocket Town...mechanic._

–_You can't go running off and gettin fuckin killed, hear me, kid?_

Roll, roll...rolling.

Under the cart, only chance. Breathe, softly, but breathe.

_Aaron, age 17...Junon...fisherman..._

Feet rushed past his vision, hearing still eluded him on a certain level. He couldn't move, but he wouldn't move. He was too tired, his vision still moving even though he was lying on the ground. More feet, more shouts, people in pain, people giving orders.

Dead, they were all dead, or would be.

Promises, promises, promises...

Edward promised his wife. Michael promised his mother. Anne promised her father. Aaron promised his girl.

And...him...he promised.

A train...the train promised safety.

_The train whistled as it passed through the second town, the wheels squeaking every now and then. Denzel, at age fourteen, gazed out the window at the passing countryside, before turning his attention back to Cloud._

_Cloud was seated across from him in their own compartment, his head tipped backwards, eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping though, Denzel could tell, he was too tense, and he was sweating._

"_Cloud?"_

_He cracked his eyes open, giving a forced smirk to the boy. _

"_You okay?" Denzel asked._

_Cloud nodded his head once._

"_Tifa said you didn't like trains...why?"_

_Cloud smirked for real this time, "That's true...but, it's more than that this time."_

_Denzel furrowed his brow, "What do ya mean?"_

"_Well, Denz," Cloud scratched the back of his head, "With the way things are right now..."_

"_Oh, yeah...that. Barret was talkin to Cid about it. But it's okay, cause we got you guys."_

_Cloud nodded his head, "Yeah...we do."_

"_But...it's different this time, isn't?" Denzel's gaze returning to the window._

_Cloud lifted his eyes slightly, studying the boy._

"_It's changed since the last time anyone's fought...it'll be different fighting."_

_Cloud swallowed slightly, "It might be, it might not. Either way, you'll be fine as long as you stay with us."_

_Denzel glanced at Cloud again, giving a confident smile, "Promise?"_

"_Yeah, I promise."_

_That was when the explosion ripped the train in two._

Denzel groaned softly, dirt puffing away from his lips. He didn't know how long he'd been out for. Gravel dug into the side of his cheek, and his left eye was swollen shut. His entire body ached as he lay there swallowing, his throat parched.

Silence.

There was no noise, and it wasn't because of the explosion. The fighting had stopped, bodies of his squad and his enemies spotting the ground behind the train cart. He moved his hand, squeezing it closed and then opening it. He tested his arms, both rolling easily considering the stiffness. It was when he shifted his left leg the pain shot up to grip his back and he grimaced, gritting his teeth.

As the pain subsided, he heard the soft footfalls of someone. Light footsteps, cautious, moving into the edge of his vision a ways off. Not red. Not an enemy.

He paused at a body, leaning down to feel for a pulse, before making a move to close eyes, and take dog tags. The man sighed deeply before standing, moving onto the next body.

He was moving freely, no enemies around, and he was an ally.

Denzel struggled with his left leg as he drug himself from the shelter of the train cart. The man heard the movement, raising his gun quickly, and then hesitating when he saw the broken form of Denzel Strife dragging himself from beneath the train.

He ran over quickly. One survivor, it was better than none.

Denzel looked up at him as the man reached him, helping to move him from beneath the train. He gave Denzel a soft smile, as the boy sighed in relief.

"Cam," Denzel said gratefully.

_Cameron...age 21...Midgar-orphan...stock-boy._

Cameron, age 21, was not dead.

_Cloud had flung himself across into Denzel's seat as the train screeched and howled in protest. Wrapping his arms around the boy, Cloud braced himself for the inevitable impact. It came, slamming the two up against the seat roughly before their world turned. _

_They were resting on the wall when Denzel finally came to. There were screams echoing up and down the cart, cries and yells. Denzel burrowed himself into a tiny ball, pressing his hands over his ears, blocking out the cries._

_He didn't know how long had passed when he came to again, he sat up, slowly. There weren't anymore shouts, any more cries of pain. He unraveled himself slowly, glancing to his side where Cloud was laying, blood trickling from a cut on his head._

"_Cloud...Cloud!" he shook the man's shoulder._

_He didn't stir._

"_Cloud!"_

**A/N: **This is a short six-part series I'll be posting for the next six days. It's revolving around Denzel, and his memories will be popping in and out. It's something that came into my head, and it's six chapters total. On the 19th I'll post the epilogue to this story, and chapter 42 to Diaries of A Broken Man. It'll be like, our 7th months anniversary since the story has been published. Anyways, I'm hoping to pull something epic off with that...but that's all I'll say about it. I'm not going to be updating any other stories other than this for the next few days. This is basically just a way for me to clear my head of all my stories I've got going (what, four? Five?) I hope you like this, and maybe the awfulness of this story will be counteracted by the awesomeness of Diaries. Till next time loves.


	2. They'll be back

They'll Be Back

Denzel sat with his head resting against the high walls of the bed of the truck. There was about seven other men in the truck with him, Cameron included. His leg had been bandaged up at a make-shift hospital at the edge of Midgar. Shrapnel had hit it during the explosion, but luckily, it hadn't been that bad.

They all had definitely seen better days, each of them dirty and disheveled. Each of them with less friends and allies in the world today than yesterday.

The assault on Midgar ruins had gone incredibly wrong. The enemy forces had known the ruins better, and maps of the once standing city didn't give much in a city of ruins. Few people had been able to map an accurate version of the battle-torn city. Denzel still thought it strange how a dead city could be fought over.

It'd been wrong coming here.

Cameron sat across from Denzel, his eyes shut, a hand still resting lightly on his holster.

Cameron hadn't been in Denzel's squad, his now decimated squad. Denzel had met him at the base just outside of Junon. It'd been comforting slightly to find another orphan of Midgar, though, Denzel didn't consider himself an orphan anymore.

They'd all be more comfortable once they reached the confines of a base. Rumor had it they were heading straight for Edge's base. It wasn't necessarily the safest base, but it was the closest; while Denzel had been lucky, there were some injured who needed serious medical attention.

People who were still against AVALANCHE, those who were with them; those who were against ShinRa, and those who stood for them...it was getting out of hand, the battles with the remnants of SOLDIER, the remnants of the Turks. Everything was out of hand.

Geostigma, and Deep Ground, wasn't that enough for this world? After Meteor, Denzel figured it would've calmed down, but the world only seemed to get worse.

Denzel leaned forward slightly, peering out the open end of the back of the truck. He watched as the city of Midgar grew smaller on the horizon the deeper they delved into the desert. The two men sitting at the end of the truck bed watched the surrounding area like hawks, eyes open for attack.

There were seven trucks in the convoy, the first heavily armored and loaded with the most powerful machine gun, the last truck much in the same fashion. The biggest truck carrying the most survivors was the second back, the third and fourth where full of those seriously injured. Denzel and Cameron were in the fifth truck, amongst those injured but still able to fight. The same went for the sixth truck.

Denzel relaxed back again as the truck escaped the grasp of looming cliffs. They could've been easy targets for snipers.

Still, even though they had escaped those cliffs, another set was coming up, a narrow valley their only choice. Denzel swallowed.

A loud rush of air filled Denzel's ears as they neared the second round of cliffs. He glanced back towards the first set, and the men at the edge of the truck called out a warning. Denzel narrowed his eyes as a small dot appeared in the sky, growing steadily, a plume of smoke trailing it. His eyes widened as it dived steeply, heading for the seventh truck.

It exploded as it contacted with the truck, sending a gush of air, and a wall of dust speeding towards the sixth truck, and Denzel's as well. The force sent the truck rocking, and Denzel watched in horror as the smoking remains of the seventh truck flipped forward, the sixth dodging it narrowly. Tires squealed as the sixth truck fought for control. Denzel thought he saw one man tumble out the back of the truck, rolling across the dirt.

The entire convoy had picked up speed, the first truck firing at the cliffs around. One of the men had taken to firing back at the edge of the cliffs they'd left behind.

Cameron's eyes were wide open, darting around, taking in their current situation.

"Where'd the fire come from?" he shouted at Denzel.

"The back! They took out the seventh–

Another whirr of air, and Denzel recognized it this time, casting his eyes once again back towards the fading cliffs. It was spinning as it came down, aiming at the sixth truck. However, this time, the truck swerved, avoiding contact as the object hit the ground and exploded to the left. It sent the truck spinning, though, and it slid onto its side, scraping across the desert floor. Denzel could see the men clinging to the walls of the truck.

He didn't have time to take this in for long, though. The force of the explosion also sent his truck swerving, though not as violently. Denzel clung to the walls as the truck leaned to the right, before swerving to face backwards, coming to a rough halt.

They sat there for just a second, breathing, taking in the lack of movement.

Cameron glanced at the truck's window. There was blood spattered across it.

"Everybody out!" Cameron shouted, launching himself upwards.

No one questioned, just grabbed what little supplies they had before jumping to the ground.

"Right cliff, right!" Cam shouted above the noise.

Denzel ducked his head low as he grasped his gun before him, stretching his long legs out as he ran. His heart hammered in his chest as he sprinted, two men to his left, and Cameron in front of him. Gun fire could be heard echoing across the battlefield, the enemy still concentrating on taking out the trucks.

Denzel was thrown forward as the truck behind him exploded. He landed roughly on his face, wincing hard the breath was knocked from him. He lay there for a moment, gathering his bearings, trying to see if anyone else was on the ground.

He felt a rough tug at his right shoulder as someone lifted him by his jacket, pulling him to his feet, and yanking him into a run. Denzel limped as he ran, his left leg aching more now, aware of the pain, and his lungs fought for air. He looked to his left, where he could see seven men running for the cover of the cliffs. The man, however, was leading him more towards the right. Denzel spotted the cluster of tall rocks, and was given a renewed strength as he struggled towards the rocks.

As they reached them, the man practically tossed Denzel down behind the rocks, before scrambling for cover himself.

Denzel glanced at the man. He must've been from the other truck. He was breathing heavily, sweat pouring off his face and marking tracks through the dirt that clung to his skin. Denzel figured he couldn't look any worse.

Another explosion sounded, and Denzel risked a glance towards the trucks. It looked like they hadn't been able to take out any more as they disappeared within the canyon walls.

"They'll come back for us..." the man whispered, more to himself than Denzel.

"_They'll be back, Denzel...don't worry," Tifa placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair._

"_Are you sure?" Denzel asked, age fifteen, looking at the woman._

_Tifa smiled her sweet smile, "Yeah, I'm sure."_

_Denzel turned his gaze back towards the retreating figures of Cloud, Barret, and Cid. They were all laughing loudly, and he could hear it faintly as they continued down the street. It was strange to see Cloud laugh that loud, especially with Barret. Normally they were pissing each other off._

_Still, Tifa was distracting him as she ran her fingers through his hair once more. Denzel cast a glance at her again, her eyes focused on the distant figures, before she turned slightly, removing her hand and placing it on her bulging stomach._

"_They'll be back," she stated softly, before turning completely and heading into the bar._

_Denzel frowned slightly, remembering his narrow escape with Cloud on that train about six months ago. He sighed, facing the figures that were no more now. _

_Tifa believed they were coming back, it was Cloud after all; still, she was worried, and that made Denzel anxious._

The man sighed, relaxing up against one of the rocks in the shade, hiding from the harsh sun. He closed his eyes, and Denzel watched him for a second. He didn't know him. The badge on his left arm said he was with squadron thirty-three. Denzel was in sixty-two. The man had black hair, that hung lose in his eyes, a large scar over his left jaw bone and down his cheek.

"We need to meet up with the others," the man stated, his eyes still closed.

"Right," Denzel stated, "I'm Denzel."

The man cracked an eye, "Marcus."

The man peered around the rock slowly. There was still gunfire echoing through the canyon ahead. It seemed the enemy had followed the convoy in to the cliffs.

"Who'd you promise?" Denzel found himself asking.

Marcus didn't look back, just kept watching his surroundings, "My little brother," he replied nonchalantly before looking back at Denzel, "My sister did too, but she broke it."

_Tifa had been washing dishes as Denzel carried in the large boxes from the latest shipment. Normally Cloud did, but he was on the phone with someone. Denzel decided to take on the task. Tifa had thanked him, her even larger stomach preventing her from lifting heavy objects; that and Cloud._

_Denzel had been in the back when he heard the loud thump, causing him to poke his head out. Tifa looked up, and then made her way slowly towards the stairs, Denzel behind her._

"_Cloud?" she asked softly, moving slowly up the steps._

_Denzel hung back as she disappeared into their room, but peered around the door frame._

_Cloud was beside of the desk, his hand still on the phone that was now hung up, his other balled into a fist where it had hit the wall, his head resting against the wall beside of it, eyes closed._

"_Cloud?" Tifa asked again, her voice shaking._

"_He's missing, they said. He was just delivering supplies, keep him out of the main battle...you know...he's just missing. He's just missing," Cloud repeated, and Denzel wasn't sure if it was for Tifa, or for himself._

"_Who, Cloud?"_

"_His airship got shot down just outside of Kalm."_

_Denzel watched as Tifa's fist balled up tightly._

"_If I'd been there..." Cloud said softly, his eyes finally opened._

"_Then my baby might be without a father," Tifa stated defiantly, her hand resting on her stomach._

_Cloud removed his head from the wall, studying her hard, "He isn't dead. He's missing."_

_Tifa nodded her head once, and Denzel heard the border-line tears in her voice, "I know."_

_Denzel only watched for a moment as Cloud wrapped his arms securely around Tifa's form. She seemed so much smaller, which didn't make any sense to Denzel, since she'd gained weight. She shook a bit, and Cloud's grip increased._

_Denzel walked away silently._

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews!


	3. Infected

Infected

They waited until the gunfire had died, or moved out of their hearing range before taking off across the open ground towards the cliffs where they'd last seen the majority of survivors heading. It was dim, near dark but not quite, and that helped for cover as the two darted across the dusty ground.

Denzel was uneasy running across that open field, eyes darting around wildly. It was too quiet, for the battle remnants that were left. The remains of the truck he'd been in was still smoking.

Still, they both figured they might as well make a run for it now. They couldn't stay hidden in the rocks forever. Even with that thought, there was no guarantee that the survivors would still be in the cliffs where they'd last saw them. If Denzel had calculated it right, they were closer to Midgar than Edge. All that stood between the two cities was the desert. It was either take the shorter route back to the enemy infested ruins of Midgar, or take the longer route to try and make it to Edge, which was undoubtedly riddled with plenty of enemy snipers.

Denzel sighed as they reached the cover of the cliffs, tracks of their previous inhabitants scattered amongst the dust. They might help Denzel and Marcus to find the squad sooner, but eventually they'd disappear whether it be by natural causes, or camouflaging their movements.

Marcus knelt near the tracks, studying them for a moment before sighing, and standing.

"We should move," he stated.

Denzel nodded behind him, a habit he'd picked up from Cloud. He let Marcus lead the way. It was smarter to move in the night, with the cover of darkness, and the sun not baking the ground before them, and their backs.

Marcus seemed to have better night vision than Denzel, and kept to the front. Neither of them felt it a good idea to light a torch or get out a flashlight. Luck was with them, though; with the moon nearly full, it was easy to see their feet.

Marcus pulled himself over another ledge, keeping the canyon that the convoy had passed through to his left. According to the tracks they were following, the group was heading towards Edge.

"We might be able to catch up with them, if we continue walking on into the day, or unless they stopped," Marcus stated.

Denzel stumbled, his foot catching a rock on the ledge. His left leg flared, and he winced, white light reaching him behind his closed eyelids.

Marcus paused, glancing back at his silent companion. He was leaned over, his hands gripping his left leg, breathing deeply.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Denzel forced out, "Just an old wound giving me a little trouble...that's all."

Marcus tilted his head slightly, "We can take a break if you need–

"No, it's fine," Denzel said straightening slowly, "See, I'm fine," he held out his hands to indicate it.

Marcus studied him for a moment longer, "Alright, but if you need to rest, just let me know."

"Will do," Denzel replied, as Marcus turned to continue on.

"_Ah..." Tifa hissed slightly through clenched teeth._

"_You okay, Tifa?" Denzel asked from his seat at the table._

_Tifa glanced up from her place at the stove, "Yeah, just burned my hand...that's all."_

_She moved quickly to the sink, her stomach looking like it was ready to pop. Denzel couldn't believe she still wasn't due for another three weeks. She looked like she could explode any minute._

_Denzel stood, "Let me help you Tifa."_

_Tifa laughed, waving a hand at him, "I'm feeling good today, Denz...let me do **something** while I can!"_

_Denzel smiled softly before moving to stand by her as she fixed herself a drink of water._

_Tifa grinned again, "Such a gentleman, Denzel! What would I do without you? With Mr. Chocobohead upstairs."_

_Denzel smiled, beginning to speak before a strangled cry reached his ears._

_Tifa dropped the glass she was holding, it shattered on impact, tiny bits of glass skittering across their feet._

"_Cloud?!" her voice was panicked, as she went to take a step._

_Denzel reached out, stopping her, "Tifa! You don't have any shoes on."_

_Her hands gripped his arms tightly, and Denzel winced, forgetting how she strong she was._

"_Cloud!" her voice raised an octave, shrill._

_Why wasn't he answering?_

"Denzel? Denzel!" Marcus was at the boy's side in a second.

"I'm...I'm fine," he hissed through his teeth.

"Yeah, right. Where's that wound of yours?" Marcus asked.

He reached down, pulling at the pants leg to Denzel's uniform.

"It isn't a big deal, I swear! Just...just some shrapnel! I could still fight–

"Shut up," he said, as he rolled up Denzel's pants' leg.

Denzel clamped his mouth shut, another pain shooting though his leg, as Marcus began to unwind the bandage.

"It wasn't bleeding earlier, was it?" he asked, not looking up.

Denzel shook his head, sweat flinging off his matted hair, "No."

"It's reopened then," Marcus replied, pulling up the bloodied bandages to show him.

"I didn't...realize..."

"Old wound my ass," Marcus growled as he finally freed it, "I've got some clean–

Marcus clamped his mouth shut, staring at the wound.

"What?" Denzel asked, almost afraid to look.

"N-nothing, it's nothing," Marcus said, standing to grab his pack up.

"What?" Denzel asked, shifting to look at the wound.

Marcus reached out, clamping down hard on his leg, his other hand digging through his pack.

"It's fine...well, as fine as an open wound can be–

"It's infected, isn't it? They were pressed for materials back at the hospital..." Denzel stated.

Marcus looked up, gravely serious, "I don't have anything to help it, Denzel."

Denzel swallowed, turning his leg slightly to gaze at his infected leg. It was bleeding, but black, yellowish skin surround the wound, pus forming around the edges. He swallowed.

Marcus began to wrap his leg deftly, "We need to catch up with the group."

"Yeah," Denzel stated.

"...I-I can't do anything for it, Denz...I'm sorry," Marcus replied, finishing with the bandages.

"It's fine. It isn't your fault."

Marcus looked up at Denzel, "Can you stand?"

Denzel smiled, "Sure...this break was all I needed."

_Denzel followed the trail of bloody, wet footprints up the steps towards Cloud and Tifa's room, little bits of glass littering the way._

_His own shoes were coated in a thin layer of water, resulting from Tifa's accident. He swallowed, as he came into the room, Tifa already on the floor, kneeling beside of Cloud._

_Denzel froze._

_Cloud was laying on his side, gripping his left arm with his right, shaking violently. Tifa knelt beside of him with some difficulty, trying to calm Cloud or wake him. His eyes were rolled up into the back of his head, a bit of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth._

"_Cloud!" Tifa breath was heavy, and she squeezed Cloud's arm, before seeing Denzel frozen at the doorway._

_She swallowed, "Get..get a cold towel..."_

_Denzel returned in a moment, handing the towel to her, and she went to dabbing Cloud's forehead with it. Denzel grabbed a pillow from the bed, placing it beneath his head. Cloud was still trembling._

"_I-I think...I think it's seizure...it'll pass...it'll pass..." she repeated to herself, whispering it over and over._

_Denzel stood wide-eyed by her, as she tried to reach out to Cloud._

"_C-Call Barret..." Tifa said softly._

_Denzel didn't hear her._

"_Denzel!" she snapped._

_He jumped, looking at her._

"_Call Barret, please."_

_Denzel nodded once, moving from the room, opting for the phone downstairs. Tifa didn't question this. Just as he moved from the doorway, he heard a large gasp, and a heave of breath._

"_Cloud?" Tifa asked softly._

_Denzel turned, peering back into the bedroom slowly._

_Cloud was still on the floor, Tifa looking down at him, but his eyes were open, and staring back at Tifa. He was still breathing heavy, a thin sheet of sweat forming over his brow._

"_Cloud?" she asked, and he swallowed._

_His voice cracked once as he replied, "I'm fine...I'm okay."_

"_No," Tifa shook her head quickly, "No you're not."_

"_I'm fine, Tifa. You shouldn't be on the floor–_

"_What was that, Cloud? What was it?"_

"_It's fine–_

"_No! It isn't–_

"_It was a seizure, Tifa...I'm okay, I swear."_

_Tifa shook her head again, opening her mouth once, and closing it again before speaking, "W-why? What's...what's wrong with you? We don't even know what happened!"_

"_...I've been to Reeve–_

"_This has happened before?" she asked, hurt._

_Cloud swallowed, "A couple times...it isn't often...it's just an after effect of Mako and...the cells."_

"_You knew about this?"_

"_Yes, I did."_

"_Cloud! What if this would've happened when you were driving?! Or-or when you were fighting? You could be seriously hurt...or worse..."_

"_It's nothing serious, it's just...a small price I have to pay."_

_Tifa's arms fell away from Cloud, her hands landing limply on the floor beside her._

_Tears filled her voice as she muttered, "After all this...everything, they still won't...just go away," she finished in a whisper._

"_I'm okay, Tifa...I'm okay," he moved to reach out from her._

"_No!" she batted his hands away, "No! You aren't okay, Cloud! You aren't okay! This isn't okay! You laying on the floor...just...laying there, and I couldn't do anything! That isn't okay!"_

"_Tifa–_

_She stood quickly, forgetting about her feet, and winced as the glass dug back into her flesh._

_She gave a little cry, before losing her balance and stumbling to the left, falling._

"_Tifa!" _

_Cloud reached out, his right hand just barely snagging her left hip, pulling her towards him, and falling onto his side once again._

_Tifa's knees hit the floor, and she fell against Cloud's side, her belly bouncing dangerously._

_Cloud pulled her into his arms, as she flat out bawled, fighting it but not at the same time._

_Denzel watched in silence, watched as Cloud glanced up once, a dark look on his face as Tifa cried on his shoulder._

_Denzel couldn't help but feel that wasn't all of the story._


	4. Time

Time

Marcus sighed, glancing back once at his weakening companion. The sun had risen two hours ago, and while he felt they were close to the team, Denzel wasn't fairing well. He was reluctant to stop, but felt that if they didn't, Denzel wouldn't make it much farther. He led Denzel into the shelter of a overhanging rock. Denzel didn't protest as he fell onto the ground, wincing a bit, before relaxing.

"You should sleep some, while we can," Marcus said, passing the water bottle to him.

Denzel took a large gulp before handing it back, "In a bit," he rasped, catching his breath.

Marcus nodded once, "Where you from?"

"Born in Midgar...Edge when I was about nine or ten...been in Corel since I was fourteen."

Marcus nodded his head.

"You?"

"Midgar."

Denzel blinked, "Where'd you go–

"I didn't go," Marcus replied, a bitter tone to his voice, "A lot of people...live there, actually...you'd be surprised. It isn't the abandon ruin everyone made it out to be. There was a little life there, believe it or not," Marcus scuffed his boot across the ground, "Anyways, after Geostigma showed up...it really took out most of what little population was there...and then it was turned into a battle field with Deep Ground. Still, we made it through that...but another battle? That's why I joined...to try and win the city back...guess we failed at that."

Denzel nodded his head thoughtfully, "Yeah...I suppose."

"You left Edge when the heat started picking up around Midgar?"

"Yep...for the best, or at least that's what they told me."

"Your parents?"

Denzel tipped his head to the side, "Sort of...adopted parents, I guess you could say. Mine died when the plate dropped."

Marcus nodded his head thoughtfully, "You've been to the church, haven't you? I mean, you were in Edge–

"I've been," Denzel replied shortly.

"Man, after Geostigma...I hung out there all the time."

Denzel nodded.

Marcus glanced at him again, "What? Bad memories with that place?"

Denzel blinked wide, shaking his head quickly, "No! No...good memories...I guess that's what hurts...knowing that they're there..."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. What kind of good memories?"

"...my guardians...they found me there...and I was healed there, Geostigma–

"You had–

"Yes, I did...my guardians, they spent a lot of time there...too."

"What're they like?"

Denzel smirked, "Well...they're a crew, let me tell you. My...role model, well, he's very quiet...strong, and distant at times...but he's a good guy. And the woman who raised me, well, she's a real mother...I mean, she wasn't when she met me...she is for real now...but...they go good together, and she sure can give a mean right hook," Denzel tilted his head back, counting names off on his fingers, "Let's see...there's Barret...he's...loud, but Marlene calls him a big teddy-bear. And Cid, he had a foul mouth on him, and a temper...but, he was good to Shera and their kids. Um, Yuffie's...well, Yuff's a thief...plain as day. She's fickle, and hyper, but a good person. Vincent...is interesting. Erm, Nanaki, he's probably one of the smartest guys I know. I mean, he'll just go on and on about something and lose you in the first three sentences without even realizing it."

"That's a lot of adopted parents," Marcus smirked.

"Well, I mean...Cloud and Tifa are really more of my adopted parents...the rest are like extended family."

"Hmm."

"What about you? You said you had a brother, right?"

Marcus nodded his head once, "A little brother, older sister. They...they moved to Edge, for the betterment of my little bro. My sister wanted to stay with me, but...I wouldn't let her," he lowered his head.

Denzel remembered what he had said about his sister breaking her promise.

Marcus returned his gaze to the sweltering horizon, the two sitting in silence for a while.

He swallowed, finally speaking, "Who'd you promise?" Marcus asked.

Silence was his answer, and Marcus glanced over, seeing Denzel had fallen asleep.

"_What was it like, Cloud?"_

_Cloud shifted, looking to his left lightly. Denzel was seated on the ground beside of Fenrir as they gazed out across the horizon._

"_What, Denzel?"_

"_Growing up...with parents."_

_Cloud frowned slightly, the boy never looking at him, "Denzel–_

"_I'm just thinking...that's all. Sorry."_

"_No, it's fine. I didn't have a father, but I had a mother. And, around the age of fourteen, I left home."_

_Denzel turned to glance at him for the first time, "Why?"_

_Cloud looked away quickly, "It was something I felt I had to do; to help the people I loved."_

_Denzel nodded once, before facing the horizon again, "I'm around fourteen now, aren't I," he paused, "I want to be like you, Cloud."_

_Cloud looked at him again, "Denzel. There were a lot of things I did that I'm not proud of. I could've made better decisions, for a lot of things...and maybe things would've been different, for the better."_

"_I'm glad you made the decisions you did," Denzel stated firmly._

"_I kill–_

"_I know. Tifa's talked to me before about it. She said she's done it too, and I understand; I understand that being a hero, being like you, Cloud...it's more than just fighting. There's more serious things involved, like death. It isn't all about being strong. Tifa...Tifa says she doesn't want me to live like she did. She said I shouldn't have to fight, but I do want to. I want to protect people too, ya know? I want to help, and protect Tifa the way she's done for me," he reached down, fiddling with the grass, "And I also understand that the path I choose might take me towards something I'm not ready to face yet, but...eventually, I will be, because I'll do what it takes to protect the people I love...just like you, Cloud."_

_He didn't reply._

"_And," Denzel started again, "If you didn't make the decisions you did, I might not be here right now," he sighed, "It was wrong of me to ask what it was like living with parents, Cloud...cause, I already know."_

_Cloud felt a smile tug his lips._

Denzel woke an hour before the sunset. Marcus was seated on the edge of an overhang, legs dangling off. Denzel groaned, his leg throbbing, before sitting up, reaching for the water.

He took a swig, and coughed, dust lodged in his throat.

Marcus turned, glancing over his shoulder once, "Hey," he said softly.

Denzel nodded in his head in return, putting the water bottle down, "How long was I out for?"

"Long enough. We'll move here in a bit, if you don't mind."

Denzel studied Marcus' back, "What about...what about you–

"I'm fine," Marcus stated, glancing back again before smirking, "After all, you're the one with the infected leg."

"Still..."

"I'm fine, Denzel."

"Then," Denzel said, slowly standing, "I'm ready to move."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, we've got to have quite a ways before we catch up with the others..."

_If the others were still anywhere around._

The unspoken words hung in the air between the two, before Marcus stood, brushing off his pants.

"We've still got time."

_Denzel was stretching after he got off of Fenrir. Cloud yawned, a tired smile spread across his lips._

"_Well, that was rather uneventful."_

_Denzel shrugged, "'s okay. We still have time."_

_When Cloud didn't reply, Denzel looked up, "We still do have time, right? I mean, with your...seizures and everything... It isn't serious, that's what you told Tifa. Or...was that just–_

"_It's true, Denzel...it isn't serious. It's just something I have to pay for...all the things I did, this is my punishment."_

"_But you're a hero, Cloud. You shouldn't have to suffer or pay for anything after everything you've done. You should be happy and healthy–_

"_I am."_

"_B-but..."_

"_You said it yourself, Denzel. Being a hero...it means having more than just that image. You'll do things you aren't proud of, if you choose that path. Sometimes, sometimes it isn't enough to balance it out in the end. Being a hero, if that's what you call me...I'm as much a villain to someone somewhere, as much as I'm a hero to you. It isn't as black and white as you think it is."_

**A/N: **I still haven't decided which is my fav. chapter...it's either the 5th or 6th...I didn't like this chappie too much, pleh. Oh, well, thanks for reviews! And you'll see where Marlene is next chapter. XP


	5. A Son's Honor

A Son's Honor

"The...the tracks are wearing thin," Marcus gasped, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Denzel moved to stand beside of Marcus, nodding his head, aching to drink some water, but not. After four days stranded in the desert, and not knowing if they'd be rescued, they'd laid off on the water.

Now what few dusty tracks had been available before, were even thinner, more light and delicate. It was a good thing that Cloud had taught Denzel a thing or two about tracking, else they might not of made it this far.

"We're going to lose them," Denzel stated.

Marcus shook his head quickly, sweat raining down on the ground, "No...we're not."

It was hot, the morning sun bearing on their backs harshly. Denzel's leg was practically numb from pain. It made it harder to walk, and he had to watch each step carefully, his left leg seeming heavier, and it unbalanced him.

"We should stop–

"We can't stop," Denzel cut Marcus off, "If we stop, we'll lose them for sure."

_If they hadn't been rescued already anyways._

Marcus starred at Denzel for a moment, sweat pouring into his eyes, "They'll have to rest too, Denzel, and more often, with more men."

Denzel studied him hard, moving to take another step, but his left knee gave out, and he went down, kneeling on the ground.

Marcus didn't say anything as Denzel recovered, standing slowly.

"I think there's a cave not to far up ahead, I saw it on the last outcrop. We should rest there, it'll protect us from the sun," Marcus said, slowly turning to face forward.

Denzel nodded his head, and began to move forward again behind Marcus.

It took them longer than it should have to reach the cave, with Denzel stumbling along behind Marcus. The pain had come back, the numbness wearing off when he realized they wouldn't be catching up. Denzel stumbled into the cool cave behind Marcus. It wasn't very big, shallow in the cliffs, and Marcus checked around the rocks for scorpions or snakes. When he saw it was clear, he sank down onto the dusty floor, relaxing up against the wall. He groaned, yanking out his water bottle, Denzel sliding down the cave wall across from him.

Marcus watched as Denzel rolled up his pants leg, examining the bandages, before pulling the pants back down.

"We'll get you something for that," Marcus stated, sipping his water.

Denzel met his gaze, merely nodding his head once.

"_So, they'll help, right?" Tifa asked, apprehension lacing her voice._

"_They've been helping Teef," Cloud replied, laying a hand gently on the side of her face._

_Denzel, seventeen, watched through the window as he stood in the back yard, moonlight shining down eerily. He sighed, pressing his lips together as he turned away._

"_I'm...just worried, that's all."_

"_I know, Tifa...I know. It's been two years, and I know..."_

_Tifa didn't reply, just sighed._

"_War..." Cloud stated softly, "It's always there."_

"_I know."_

_The dim light on the ground disappeared as Tifa cut the lights off, and the two disappeared upstairs._

_Denzel sighed again, shaking his head lightly. It'd been about four years since that explosion on the train, and the war wasn't getting any better. More rebels were appearing, but it was getting hard to distinguish the bad guy from the good guy._

_The way Denzel figured it, the bad guy was the one who just wouldn't let everyone live in peace._

_He tipped his head back, gazing up at the large moon, ripe in its light, craters marking the surface. He wondered, if it was possible, if people would fight over the moon. Probably, one day, when he was old, and space travel was common, they'd fight over it. They'd build things on it, large signs, buy property...but what was the point? Why couldn't they just let it be? Why couldn't they just let it beautiful, and live in peace?_

_He figured it was because that was too simple._

"_You're going, aren't you?"_

_Denzel turned swiftly, stumbling at the sudden voice. It was Marlene. She was standing beside of the large oak tree, her hand resting on it lightly, eyes shining in the night with fear._

"_Marlene, go home. Your dad's probably worried– _

"_You're going to join all those boys from the mines...who didn't go to school. You're going to drop out of school and go fight," she shook her head, "Tifa won't let you."_

"_Cloud will."_

"_No, he won't."_

"_How do you know?"_

"_Because he doesn't want you to leave!" Marlene shouted, her hand balling up into a fist._

_Denzel shook his head sadly, "He's got his son now."_

_Marlene gripped her chest, the blow hitting her in the heart, "How can you say that?" she whispered harshly._

"_Because it's true–_

"_That isn't true!" she spat furiously, "Yes! He does have a blood son now, but he still has you! He still wants you here! Tifa wants you here!" a little softer, "I want you here."_

"_I can't stay, Marlene."_

"_So you're saying my Papa doesn't count?" she asked, gesturing to her chest, "Because we aren't **blood** related? Are you saying that?"_

_Denzel winced at the tone to her voice. Hurt, betrayed, and in pain._

"_You could die Denzel, you could be killed...don't you understand?"_

"_I do."_

"_You'll have to kill, Denzel. You'll...you'll have to kill someone."_

"_Cloud's done it."_

_Marlene shook her head in disbelief, "Is that what this is about? Cloud? Are you going off to play hero for him?" _

_Denzel's eyes went wide, startled that she actually said that._

"_Are you hoping to win your right to be his son? Is that it?"_

"_Stop it, Marlene."_

"_No! You **can't **leave. It isn't fair," she shook her head, and Denzel noticed the way the moonlight reflected in her tears. _

_Tiny stars falling from her eyes._

_The moon shouldn't cry._

"_I have to Marlene," he stated softly, "It's more than winning some honor to be Cloud's son. Maybe your right, maybe that's part of it...but..." he looked away from her, "I have to protect the people I love. I can't let anyone be hurt...the battle, it's contained right now. But, if it were ever to reach Corel," he shook his head softly, "Then...it'd all be over. It'd destroy this peace that we have here, this little bubble of safety we've built. And maybe, if I go fight, I can keep it contained even more...so it'll never get here, so Tifa, Cloud, you and Barret can all live in peace. So...so Avery can grow up in peace, with parents that love him and won't have to fight anymore. Maybe we can end the fighting."_

_He stood there for a moment in silence, staring at the ground, waiting for her to say something. But she didn't, and he felt a cold fear set into his heart, fear that maybe she'd left him like that, bitter and angry with him._

_Her head bumped softly up against his chest as she wrapped her arms loosely around him._

"_Fine," her voice muted against his shirt, "Go...go and be a hero...but be careful, okay?"_

"_Okay," he replied, slowly wrapping his arms around her shaking form._

_And it would be okay, he understood, because now that he had Marlene's permission, he knew he could leave._

_The ring bumped solidly up against his chest when she pulled back slightly. He raised a hand, fingering it, like he always did when he got nervous. Cloud had given it to him so long ago, his fingers never quite growing into the large circle, so it remained dangling around his neck. Maybe...maybe when he would come back, it would fit._

_Reaching up, he slipped the leather cord over his head, and dropped it around Marlene's. She looked up at him, shocked as he dropped his precious trinket around her neck._

"_Denzel..."_

"_It's okay."_

Denzel jerked roughly as he woke, the memory plaguing his mind. Why here? Why now? Of all the times for that memory to come...why now? He blinked, the empty feeling on his chest he'd gotten use to more present than ever. Two years, and the memory was still fresh in his mind, still hanging in his dreams.

Denzel rubbed the sleep from his eyes, taking a sip of water before realizing that Marcus was not in the cave. He sat up quickly, his leg protesting loudly, but ignored it. He limped to the cave opening, the sun casting a hazy orange over the desert.

"Marcus?" Denzel called.

Denzel darted back into the cave; Marcus' pack was gone.

_He left...he left me..._

Denzel couldn't really say he blamed the man; he was the one slowing their progress.

That was when he saw the note folded up, half of it sticking out from beneath a rock. Denzel lifted it carefully, eyes scanning it.

_I'll be back, with help. Just stay here, Denzel. There's water and food in your pack. Just stay put, and I'll bring help._

_I'm sorry._

_-Marcus._

Denzel felt his heart freeze up in his chest, fear ebbing into his mind, it's cold fingers gripping at his mind.

"No," he whispered.

He was alone, and he was dying.

It hadn't taken Denzel long for him to get packed up to get out of the cave. He couldn't stay there now, and he wasn't sure if Marcus would be back. Hefting the heavy pack, he moved with precision down the rocky incline, following Marcus' tracks. If he walked long enough, he might be able to catch up with him.

Denzel walked straight through the night, never stopping, never drinking any water. It was one thing to be doomed, but he didn't want to be doomed alone. He needed that company, even if it was slightly awkward and unwanted at times.

He needed that, to stay sane.

He had stumbled over that last rock as the sun was rising, tripping and falling onto the ground. He groaned softly into the sand, wincing, before opening his eyes to wearily get up.

Blood.

He scrambled backwards, a new found strength in his exhausted limbs; he licked his parched lips as he studied the scene, breathing heavily, shock setting into his bones.

"What about your brother, Marcus?" he whispered softly.

Behind the sixth bend, on the fourth cliff, the remains of Marcus lay. His pack was gone, his uniform ransacked for any type of materials. His eyes were open, staring blankly out at the desert landscape, lips slightly parted in disbelief. It'd probably had been bandits.

There was a thing slit running across his neck, the blood coating the front of his shirt and neck dry.

Denzel stared in open disbelief, before finding the strength to lean over and shut Marcus' eyes softly. He stared down at the blood, mingled with the sand of the desert.

"_Tifa!"_

"_I'm..." she hissed, "I'm okay...I think."_

_Blood was running from her arm, pooling on to the floor, swirling around in the spilt flour. It looked strange, the rivers of red running through a land of white._

_The knife was still laying on the counter-top, blood coating it's outer rim. There was blood on the cutting board where a pile of half chopped carrots were laying. The bag of flour for the bread was lying on the ground from where Tifa had knocked it off with her elbow, after jumping back._

_Cloud was fussing over her arm, but she swatted him with her hand, "I've...had worse...than-than this. I-I...it just...it just caught me off guard, that's all."_

_She pressed a dish towel into the shallow cut, sighing heavily._

"_I'm sorry, I guess...I guess I should've waited till a better time."_

"_Denzel–_

"_No, it's my fault, Tifa. I'm sorry."_

_She looked at him with sympathy in her eyes, pain and loss, and shook her head softly._

"_I'll go clean this up...I mean, I'll clean this up too, don't worry about it. I-I just need to bandage up this first," she gave a weak smile before walking away._

_Cloud watched her back until she disappeared up the steps, concern in his eyes, before turning on Denzel._

_His concern went to a harsh glare, before he shook his head firmly, "No, Denzel."_

"_But Cloud–_

"_No. That's final. You aren't fighting."_

"_Why **not**?"_

"_Because, Denzel, that isn't for you."_

_Denzel couldn't believe this, he shook his head lightly, "You can't be serious."_

"_I am serious, Denzel."_

"_That isn't fair!"_

"_It isn't fair? Denzel, this is serious...it isn't a game, it's war–_

"_I'm perfectly aware of what it is, Cloud!"_

"_No! You **aren't** Denzel, you aren't."_

_Denzel stepped back at the anger in Cloud's voice, at the way he shouted. _

"_You **don't** understand what's going to happen. You don't understand what you'll have to do, and what people will try to do to you. You don't understand that–_

"_If you got to fight, then why not me?!"_

"_That was different, Denzel! I didn't have a choice!"_

_Denzel took a step forward, anger seething in his veins, "Yes! Yes you did! You were the one that wanted to join SOLDIER! You were the one that wanted to do that! You–_

"_Stop it Denzel! You don't–_

"–_left of your own accord! You told me that! To protect the ones you love! And that's what I'm doing!"_

_Cloud's fist slammed down onto the counter top, "Do you know how many people died because of me? Do you, Denzel? Do you? Do you know how many people were killed just so that I could die? How many people I had to kill just to survive? How many families were left behind? All those people...Denzel," Cloud's voice became quiet, "It's not...it's not that I don't want you to protect your loved ones, it isn't that Denzel."_

"_Then what is it?" Denzel spat, anger still weighing his voice._

_Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut._

"_What is it, Cloud?" Denzel asked again._

"_I don't want you to have something like that on your shoulders."_

_Denzel blinked, startled, "What?"_

_Cloud jerked his hand down, looking up to harshly connect his eyes with Denzel's, "I don't want you to regret what you did...I don't want you to feel guilty for deaths that you could've prevented, that you didn't have to cause. I don't want that to weigh on your shoulders."_

_Denzel swallowed, the sudden silence engulfing after that yelling fight. He could hear the soft cries of someone upstairs. At first he thought it was Avery, but then he heard a voice in the tears..._

_...Tifa's soft voice, "It'll be okay...shh, now, it's okay Avery."_

_Denzel shook his head, closing his eyes tightly, the image of Tifa crying over Avery in the nursery forming in his mind. He banged his fist on the counter much as Cloud did, guilt already overwhelming him._

_Was it worth it? Is this the way Cloud felt? Deaths, that wasn't the only guilt he was talking about._

_Sometimes...to protect the people you love, you have to leave them. Was he prepared to tear his family apart?_

_...his family..._

_Cloud, and Tifa, his little brother now...Avery...was that how it went? Was he really their son now? The bond Marlene and Barret shared, wasn't it different? Marlene...she didn't even know her parents...but him, he had. He could still remember them, and it wasn't like he went around calling Cloud 'Papa'. That would just be weird._

_He looked up, surprised. Cloud had moved towards the doorway, gripping the frame tightly with one hand, not facing him._

_He sighed deeply, "It's something I have to do Cloud. It's something I need to do..."_

_Cloud tensed for a moment, his knuckles turning white, before nodding his head once, and releasing the frame slowly to walk upstairs._

**A/N: **Sorry it's so late! I had to work all day! Thanks for all the reviews! Love ya!


	6. Not All The Heroes

Not All The Heroes

Denzel stumbled, his vision swimming before his eyes. Two days...two days since he'd found Marcus' body. Two days since the tracks had disappeared. Two days since his canteen had gone dry. Two days since his death was assured.

And then there was the pain. The pain that shot up his leg as his foot dragged across each stone, each pebble. As his foot caught a rock, he gave a straggled cry, falling to the ground in a heap.

He found it amazing with a throat so dry, with a mouth so parched, his eyes found a way to produce water.

"I'm sorry," his voice was strange sounding, whispered over cracked, sun baked lips.

It reminded him of dry leaves rattling on the wind in the early winter, when he and Marlene would take walks around Edge.

Cloud was right. He hadn't done anything to protect his family. He had only hurt them. He should've just stayed in Corel. Why hadn't he stayed in Corel?

...because as much as he regretted leaving now, he would've regretted not leaving just as much if he had stayed.

And the truth burned bitter in his heart as the tears welled up again, falling from his eyes, cutting tracks through the dirt, marking lines down his cheeks.

The wind picked up as he cried, blowing sand across his face, and something dry and brittle smacked his face. He peeled the thing off, studying it as it blew around in his pinched fingers.

It was a flower pedal. Yellow, old and dead, but...it was a flower pedal.

Why were there flowers out here?

Denzel pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes finding the cliff side he laid on top of. He dragged himself on his belly across the ground, the flower pedal crushed to bits in one hand.

Shock was numbing his bones, sending tremors up his back and he felt his breath come quick as he eyed the world before him.

...it...

...It was Midgar.

"No," he breathed, "No...no no no no! We...the tracks...why?"

Denzel grabbed his hair in fistfuls, pulling, feeling the world crash down on his shoulders as he knelt at the edge of the cliff.

"No!" and he yelled; he yelled and screamed, his angry voice echoing out to the city.

How had he gotten turned around? They'd been walking for days, and it would've taken longer for him to backtrack this far, right?

He gasped, pressing the heel of his hand into his eyes, "Marlene I'm sorry," a hole in his chest.

He breathed deeply, trying to get himself under control. The city was still a ways off, a large valley separating him from it. Denzel rolled away from it, looking to his right.

It glinted faintly when the sun broke through the clouds for just a second, and Denzel thought he wouldn't have seen it if it weren't for that.

Pulling himself across the ground, the sun hid itself back behind the clouds, and Denzel became desperate to reach the object.

It was standing by itself, proud against the horizon, defiant against the destroyed city. It was worn and battered, scratched and rusted, but it still stood, like a beacon of hope for Denzel. He pulled himself towards it before turning to face away from the city, resting his back up against the mammoth sword.

More flower pedals dusted the ground, dancing to life as the wind skittered across beneath them.

_Tifa was by the pews, one hand resting on them as she gazed at the flowers, Marlene stepping along carefully in the flowerbed. Denzel hung back a bit, studying the place. It was where Cloud had found him; it was where the Geostigma had attacked him._

_This was one of his earliest memories with Tifa, and Marlene. Cloud wasn't there, and his Geostigma still burned slightly on his forehead. He rubbed it unconsciously._

"_What's with this place?" he asked softly._

_Tifa glanced at him, "What do you mean?"_

"_It's different," he replied, moving towards the flower bed._

_Marlene giggled, teasing him, "Of course it is silly...this was where **she **stayed."_

"_Whose she?"_

_Marlene scoffed at him, "The flower girl...duh."_

"_Marlene," Tifa softly reprimanded her._

_Marlene bit her lip, then tilted her head to the side, studying him, "You really don't know who she is?"_

_Denzel shook his head slowly, Tifa moving to stand before the flowerbed._

"_Did you guys know her?"_

"_Mm hmm," Marlene stated proudly._

"_Was she a hero, like you Tifa? Like you and Cloud?"_

_Tifa didn't reply, she merely ran a finger across one of the delicate pedals._

"_Well, where were you, when Meteor struck, Denzel?" Marlene asked._

"_I was outside of Midgar, with a bunch of people from the slums. We were all watching it. It looked like Meteor could've just sat on Midgar, and then, all of a sudden, green tendrils shot from the planet to save us. Some of the adults were saying it was the Life Stream."_

"_They were right," Marlene said wisely, "And **she** was the one who called it."_

_Denzel nodded his head, "So...she was a hero too," he turned to look at Tifa._

_She was kneeling at the edge of the floorboards, still staring intently at the flowerbed._

"_If she was a hero too, Tifa, why isn't she here now...with the rest of us?"_

"_Because, Denzel," Tifa replied, staring at a lily with a distant look, "Not all the heroes get to see the end."_

She remembered when they'd first started building it. She'd been thirteen, skipping down the road, dancing to a tune that had gotten stuck in her head. The war had only just started, but already hope was a scarce thing.

She had twisted her head, stopped in mid step of her skip, casting her eyes over the landscape before her.

There was that large cliff that sat just south of the town, just above her house. Her father had always said he'd find something to put there, find some type of use for the place. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. She'd wish he'd never had this opportunity.

Blinking twice, she gazed in wonder as the large, yellow crane creaked and groaned, hauling the large slab of black rock across the sky. They lowered it slowly onto the cliff, where it landed with a puff of dust.

Seven years later and there were thousand of names inscribed across the vast expanse. Three more large slabs had been added, and another was due in. The war still wasn't over, despite the sacrifices of all the people on the slabs.

She'd snuck out after dark, wearing her favorite sun dress. It was white with little blue flowers spraying along the hem line; the neck line done up in a halter-top fashion. She'd pulled her hair back into a blue ribbon, tying it off in her signature braid, her white flip flops stumbling over the many steps.

Blue was her new favorite color, ever since that night.

She'd climbed this path many times over the past year, memorizing it...but tonight, tonight was special.

The moon hung full and ripe in the sky, the light illuminating her path easily. The ring around the leather band slapped against her chest heavy and hard with each step she took.

Reaching the top, she moved towards the oldest slab on the far end of the wall.

Many people had traveled here just for this. Just for this wall with thousands of names of the dead inscribed across them. Tracing her fingers across the engravings she found the first name, and smiled wryly, finding it hard to believe another year had passed with out the foul-mouth ill-tempered pilot.

He was about halfway down the middle column, printed in slightly larger letters. After all, he did help defeat Sephiroth.

"We miss you, Cid. Hope you aren't giving sister too much trouble," she giggled.

Many people came here, just for a rubbing of a name...of a person they knew or had known; of a family member, a neighbor, an old friend, or a lover. Each had a story, a laugh and a tear; each had a moment, each had a memory.

Flowers ran along the ground before the memorial, candles lit by those left behind in mourning. Pictures dotted the wall, names scribbled in the corner, no one having the heart to put a picture up in fear of covering up another name.

She traced over several other names; boys she had grown up with, boys that were miners, brothers, fathers, men, children. It was all the same anyways, they all ended up in the same place.

It was on the third slab, first column, eighth name down, slightly larger letters once more.

After all, Strife isn't a very common name. In fact, there was only four of them. Cloud, Tifa, Avery...and him.

She let her fingers trace delicately over each letter, her other hand tracing the features of his ring. Each letter, each carving, each trace wouldn't bring her closer to him. But...here beneath the full moon, she could almost imagine it was his shoulder blades her fingers were gracing, and not the mere carving of his name.

Of course, he had been warm, and this stone...this stone was cold, bathed beneath the moon's light.

She could almost see him, a perfect outline, even a year after he'd been found.

He wasn't buried here, she knew that. She knew where he was buried, but she couldn't go there in the dead of night, escaping under the cover of the full moon. She'd have to settle for this though, for this name written in stone of a dead man who died trying to save everything he could.

But had he done anything? The war, still raging, and people...still dying.

A little piece here, a little piece there, all falling apart...taken away slowly but surely, and she began to wonder if anything would be left in the end. She wondered if they'd fill up all the black stones with names of the dead.

Her finger lingered over the 'D', her eyes studying it with a distant gaze.

"I'll be seeing you, Denz," she whispered softly, before kissing the 'D' lightly.

It was harder, though, pretending those were his lips, or his cheek. Lips were softer, and didn't have carvings in them, carvings of a dead friend's name.

She pressed her forehead into the rock, balling her hand into a fist.

It would never be about the war when she would look back on it, she realized. It wouldn't be about the people that would win it, who the enemy was, and it wouldn't be about the miraculous take back of Midgar. It wouldn't be about the trials, or the executions. It wouldn't be about the prisoners released, or the anniversary dates. It wouldn't be about the lives saved, and it wouldn't be about the heroes that won...the heroes that changed the course of the war.

For her, it would always be about him, it would always be about his death.

Not everyone's looking out for the heroes that change everything, and not everyone's looking to be that hero.

It's enough if they just do that little, serve that one tiny part.

It wasn't enough for her, though...

After all, not all the heroes got to see the end.

**A/N: **Tragic, eh? I appreciate all the reviews for this story, I really do. I can't help it, I have to spit out a tragic story everynow and then...it's my nature.


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